Actually.
Though it might sound irresponsible to say this, no one could blame Chen Yuzhe if he simply turned away now, choosing to ignore Li Wanmei’s plight.
After all, her current mess was the bitter fruit of her own choices—blinded by reckless love.
And Chen Yuzhe wasn’t exactly a saint himself. Li Wanmei’s situation was nearly hopeless. Even if a solution existed, it would be a murky swamp. Anyone stepping in would sink, trapped.
Chen Yuzhe had no reason to wade into that mess.
Most importantly, he couldn’t even decide for himself.
Should he save her?
Did he even have the right to?
Saving someone wasn’t just spouting empty pep talks. Sometimes, blindly urging others to live was deeply irresponsible.
Too many people were pushed to their deaths by hollow, thoughtless comfort like “Just hold on,” “There’s always hope,” or “Never give up.”
If you couldn’t truly feel their pain, don’t fake sympathy. It might backfire, becoming a burden, pressure—the last straw that breaks the camel’s back.
Take Li Wanmei’s case.
Honestly, if Chen Yuzhe swapped places with her, he might lose the will to live too.
She’d fallen for the wrong man—Huang Yanchen, a monster who ruined her youth and body.
Her family shattered. Her parents left nothing but disappointed eyes.
She needed money for treatment but couldn’t work due to illness.
And then there was the tiny, shapeless life growing inside her.
Seeking help online, she opened Weibo only to face torrents of hateful comments:
“Modern girls don’t know self-respect. They mess around and deserve this.”
“The guy’s scum, but she’s no saint either. Pregnant in college? Bet she’s slept with half the campus.”
“What kind of kid would she even raise? Just die already. Don’t become an AIDS carrier.”
“Just die.”
Just die.
Just die.
Just die.
That’s why she stood here now.
Chen Yuzhe knew this. He fell into the longest silence of his life.
He didn’t know if urging Li Wanmei to abandon suicide was right or wrong. He didn’t dare gamble.
Death might be a decent escape.
Far better than waking each night to despair and endless slander.
Living took far more courage than dying. Who was he to push someone onto a path of endless suffering with a few careless words?
This time, Chen Yuzhe truly didn’t know what to do.
“Tch.” He frowned in frustration.
“You… want to talk me out of suicide?” Li Wanmei asked softly.
“…That was the plan,” Chen Yuzhe hesitated, then sighed. “But you’re right. I’m not even sure I should stop you.”
Li Wanmei suddenly smiled. “Thank you.”
“Me? Why thank me?” Chen Yuzhe almost laughed. “I’d be praying you don’t hate me. Why thank me?”
“Why would I hate you?” Li Wanmei looked puzzled. “You didn’t cause this. I have no reason to blame you.”
Right. It wasn’t him. Chen Yuzhe gave a wry smile.
Then who?
Huang Yanchen, that heartless beast.
Her cold-blooded parents.
The gossipmongers thriving on drama.
Reporters feasting on human tragedy for clicks.
Or the keyboard warriors hiding behind screens, spewing hate for attention.
But this kind-hearted girl would only give one answer.
“It’s my fault. No one else’s.” She smiled gently.
“If I’d just studied hard in college instead of obsessing over makeup and clothes, chasing crushes and idols…”
“Drinking more water, eating fruit, reading books I loved in the library, listening to my favorite songs…”
“Spending weekends curled up watching movies, or grabbing hotpot and bubble tea with friends…”
“If I had spare time, I’d work part-time, save pocket money, go home every weekend to eat and chat with my parents…”
Her voice sounded happy, like she was reliving a beautiful memory. Tears streamed down her face, hitting the ground.
“Maybe I’d be pretty and confident now, without trying too hard.”
“I’d have a boyfriend—not handsome, but gentle, shy, and caring.”
“I’d win scholarships, maybe study abroad.”
“I’d live a life that wasn’t perfect… but was mine.”
Her eyes grew distant. She raised her hand slightly, grasping at the air.
Nothing there.
“…Maybe I was really close to that life once.”
Only now did her voice begin to tremble uncontrollably.
“It’s… too late.”
“I can’t… go back…”
She sobbed quietly, like a beggar with nothing left.
“I don’t want to die.”
“I want to live.”
“I even want to raise the baby inside me, protect him for his whole life.”
“But…” Her tear-streaked eyes, red-rimmed and blurry, lifted to meet Chen Yuzhe’s.
“I really can’t go on living.”
